Okay, he could work with this. So Suzuya didn’t know what a binder was? That was fine. That was to be expected, really. He had no real reason to know what that was. And if Mutsuki wanted to tell him about himself, he would have to explain that. It was okay. Everything was okay.
Still, his heart pounded in his chest so loudly and incessantly.
“Y-yes,” He stumbled, hands curling around the hem of his sweatshirt nervously. “I do wear it. Every day, actually.” It was hard, but he kept his tone even and informative. It wasn’t as if he was well-practiced in this conversation. But he was trying, because he wanted to have this conversation.
“A binder um…helps to compress my chest.” Suddenly he was years younger, sitting stock-straight in that chair as the men with faces that he couldn’t remember asked him to join the CCG. His heart beat heavy, just as it had then. But he had something he didn’t used to have. He had self-belief. He knew who he was and what he wanted to be.
He sighed, allowing himself to look down at his hands and gather the courage to look back up at Suzuya. “When I was younger, I had only unpleasant feelings about living as a girl. I didn’t know why.” He looked back up at him then, face set in determination. “But I do know why now. It’s because I’m a boy. I’m not a girl and I never was. I’m a boy, Suzuya.” He explained, hoping he was making sense. Hoping beyond hope that somehow he would be understood –that he would be accepted.
That he wouldn’t regret giving away his first kiss.
Tooru was doing the thing again— the thing where he fidgeted his hands and fiddled with his clothing as if it was nothing more than cellophane and he was exposed— voice projected at the ground. It was as if he expected to be told off. Juuzou couldn’t imagine why… you’d have better luck finding a philosopher’s stone than shocking him.
He didn’t get it— him— at all.
A binder to compress his chest…?
Juuzou unfolded the garment and, experimentally, held it up to his own chest… trying to understand what, of the cartilage and calcified bone, there was to flatten until—
There was no tact in the way he looked Tooru up and down— not to objectify him… not intentionally; but in the same way he’d rather refer to the illustrated instructions on the back of a noodle packet than read.
❝ Tooru used to live as a girl. ❞
“ ...Juuzou used to live as a girl... ”
Now, their experiences might not have been identical, but they still related... and for him to relate was an entirely new and entirely terrific phenomenon. Excitement filled him all at once. He had questions. He had so, so many questions that’d gone unsaid to a world that would surely be judgemental. But now... now he had an opportunity to speak about it and the feeling of freedom was incredible. With a hopeful grin, he hopped over to the table and took a seat— inching so close that their knees touched; eyes huge and inquiring.
❝ What was it like?? Does anyone else know, or is it a secret? This thing— binder you wear... isn’t it too tight? It’s so teeny...! How do you breathe?! Can I try it on—? ❞
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